


Give Me Your Answer Due

by Spideryspade



Category: Casper (1995), The Spooktacular New Adventures of Casper (Cartoon)
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Drowning, M/M, also kinda ooc, kind of?, who cares tho it was fun to write!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spideryspade/pseuds/Spideryspade
Summary: "Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clock beat outside - heart of the house - as old wood breathed in humid air and ectoplasmic matter, lungs coated in slime and smoke. Smoke came from the guest room, an old fireplace coughed with burnt wood and coal, coating the floor underneath it black.  "
Relationships: Blink-and-you'll-miss-it Stretch/James, Stretch/Men
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Give Me Your Answer Due

Stretch watched from the dark corner as James continued working. Hands stained in blue ink kept on writing, various books and studies surrounding him. His hair was ruffled, pushed back by one of the stained hands. 

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._ The clock beat outside - heart of the house - as old wood breathed in humid air and ectoplasmic matter, lungs coated in slime and smoke. Smoke came from the guest room, an old fireplace coughed with burnt wood and coal, coating the floor underneath it black. 

James sighed, putting the pen down and pushing away from the oak desk. He took off his glasses before his fingers began rubbing at his eyelids. "Stretch, shouldn't you be in bed?" 

Stretch shifted deeper into the shadows at the sound of his name, before he slithered out of his cover. The light on the therapist's desk, welcomed him as he hovered above the desk, looking at the yellowed papers from his brother's collection and documentation from therapy. James's eyes were red as he looked up at the ghost - still warm, but bloodshot and ornamented with dark circles under his eyes. It wasn't the first time the therapist has neglected resting, but it still bugged Stretch whenever James stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, working on whatever the hell. 

James blinked at him. Overworking would kill him again one day. "Could say the same to you, Doc."

"Mm," James hummed, pausing the conversation as he stared off into the open space next to his chaise lounge. "I just have to finish signing those." 

James raised his brows as he gestured to the paper before him. He had a good stack to go. For at least two more hours if he was quick about it, until Kat went to school if he continued to work at this pace. 

Stretch flew next to him, taking up his vision as he leaned on his desk. James shifted back and Stretch gave him an equally tired look. For a different reason. "You can finish 'em tomorrow." He offered James his hand. "Let's get you to bed"

James tried to put his hand on Stretch's but instead of colliding with his palm, Stretch's appendage diffused into thick smoke, sending needles and pins up his arm before it returned into its previous shape. "Sorry." James apologized sheepishly.

Stretch almost didn't hear him as the static travelled up, circling his neck before his face felt numb. 

Stretch's mind seemed to buzz - flooding with images and sounds alongside emotions related to them, overwhelming him. He frowned, blinking once, trying to concentrate on the man before him."'s okay. Try again." A gramophone played in the back of his head, as he felt warmth indulge him, before the extinct flesh of his hand got burned by a flame - he saw a candle next to him before his memory cut to black.

James tried again and their palms came into contact. Stretch felt a soft breeze hit his form, sending a small shiver down his back. Stretch squeezed James's hand, getting the man up, before slowly flying away. He turned back for a moment - the window was closed. 

"What time is it?" James asked, voice soft, as if not to wake the household - 'let her sleep' Stretch thought as they went up the stairs.

"Past your bedtime." Stretch replied as the soft creak of old wood amplified the memory of the gramophone, worming its way into his non-existent brain and gnawing at his thoughts. James yawned as Stretch finally heard the first words of Bicycle Built For Two.

"How long have you been in my office?" Stretch glared at James from behind his shoulder, eyebrows right over his eyes, unintentionally looking down at the man.

He didn't reply for a while, up until they were at the top of the stairs. A déjà vu - but with someone else. Funny. "For a while. But don't ya' dare think I'm getting soft with ya'." Stretch said, giving James a one-sided smirk. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." James reciprocated the smile and he let go of Stretch's hand. His ectoplasm felt suddenly _empty,_ too big. His evocative self rang out with a chuckle as he felt an arm slide around his waist. He jerked his head down, ultimately seeing nothing besides his own body. 

They proceeded down the hall, James just realizing he forgot his glasses as he tried to adjust them on his nose. Stretch snickered.

"I'll bring them to you later." Stretch said as he opened the door to James's - J.T.'s - bedroom, flying inside and sitting on the bed. His nose crinkled as he smelled smoke. 

The painting of his brother and his wife looked down at him.

"Is everything alright?" James asked, sitting next to him after pushing the covers aside, cardigan already off, thrown on a nearby chair. 

"Course everything's alright, bonebag. Who you think you're talking to?" Stretch cackled, but a raised brow from James let him know his laugh was obvious in its fakeness. 

"Stretch, I am your friend and-" 

" _Don't say that._ " Stretch frowned as James took his hand into his own, laying it on his lap.

" _And_ you can tell me if something is wrong. You're acting… not like yourself." James gave him a sympathetic smile, eyes meeting his own. Stretch heard a gunshot as his phantom heart fluttered. 

"It ain't nothin' to worry 'bout. Go to sleep, Doc. I'll see ya' tomorrow." Stretch said, jerking his hand away. He saw James open his mouth to say something, but he didn't hear anything in the end. The bed squeaked and the house sighed.

"Goodnight, Stretch." James said softly, finally laying down.

"Night, Doc." He said as he flew out.

The wood once again absorbed the ectoplasm, as it has done before. Stretch felt as if wind was knocked out of him, bizarre considering he hasn't had an ounce of air in him in over a hundred years. His transparent form haunted the halls, before he entered his room, the lights on his bedside table still bright and warm. Not unlike candles. 

He creeped over to his bed, both of his brothers already snoring away. He wouldn't get any sleep - indicated by Fatso turning towards him, his blanket halfway to the ground. 

Stretch sighed, deciding not to bother with any of it anymore, and instead reaching towards the remote next to his lights and turning on the TV to at least wait out until the morning.

"So," Stinkie started, startling Stretch. "You got your ashes hauled?" 

With that, Stinkie got the remote thrown at him.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> What the hell was that


End file.
